


Stone and Blade

by ChaiMutt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, I am horse obsessed, I'm not kidding, It's AoT in a horse's eyes, It's in a POV of a horse, Narrated like Black Beauty, Pain, SNK Universe, Shingashina, Strength, Suffering, Takes place in the Attack on Titan universe, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author also regrets a lot, The struggle to retain morals in the midst of violence, Wall Maria - Freeform, horse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiMutt/pseuds/ChaiMutt
Summary: Attack on Titan through a horse's eyes, and a different perspective on the canon events that occur.Sandstone's life starts out pretty rough — and then she's sold through many hands, and finally given to the Survey Corps for expeditions. Trouble is, there's a feisty mare in there, Half-Moon, and she's determined to keep the pushover in her place. Through thick and thin, it boils down to a relationship of stones and blades — and how Sandstone struggles to maintain a strong outlook in a titan-infested world.





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is a weird PoV, I know — but trust me, it's amazing. Half-Moon [an OC] does not belong to me, but to aurastars_artstuff on Instagram. So does the concept of giving a horse its own type of titan-killing gear, but we'll get to that.
> 
> I'll gladly link a reference to Sandstone — for those who are interested (she's a strawberry roan sabino, look it up on google it's a beautful coloring).
> 
> Enjoy, and I would appreciate kudos and comments to keep me going on this story!

When I opened my eyes, the world was a blur. I knew nothing but whatever happened to come before this moment — and even then, it was darkness.

I was the shining light in the empty void I had become accustomed to, and the warmth that surrounded me ever so dearly. The comfort of being encapsulated made me feel safe, sheltered, as if nothing could ever happen to me. 

However, so quickly, this comfort ended when I was born, an event that was nothing short of traumatic. In a flash, I was out in the cold, the wind whipping around my soaking coat and tousled mane. 

My coat was an odd one, mainly because it was a smattering of white splashed and flecked upon my belly and legs, paired with the reddish tint of brown that colored my back. Mainly, horses were a bay color, but I suppose my genetics predisposed me to this magnificent exception.

Quickly, my mother cleaned me off, a process that ensured me I was not harmed. I was welcomed in this world, and by the unique creatures that ran it. 

The creatures were odd, especially to one who had not yet experienced even the touch of a hand. Flat faces, no hooves, trotting about on two legs rather than four. Curious, but alarmed, I nickered weakly as I arose on my gangly legs. I stumbled a few times in my efforts, which elicited a couple chuckles from the two-legged creatures.

Their voices were garbled, I couldn't yet understand their speech. They didn't nicker or whinny, or snort. They chattered and whistled, and laughed. My mother quickly ushered me to nurse, something I knew from the back of my head somewhere. 

Instinct.

Instincts pushed me to get off the ground as soon as I was birthed. Instincts urged me to nurse from my mother, and pulled me to her side like a magnet. Yet, from instincts was bred a new knowledge, which deviated from my most primal actions.

I learned about the world I was born into, and at a rapid rate. After the day of my birth, I absorbed every bit of information I could see, feel, hear, and touch. Sometimes taste — but after the splinters that arose from licking a wooden board, I relied heavily on common sense.

My mother taught me much of what she had learned. My father was nowhere to be seen, and she had explained to me that he was referred to as a “stud”. Someone who made children with many horses, like my mother, because he had an ideal form and personality. 

I didn't understand — much like I didn't understand the beings. Humans, as they were called. They were certainly an odd bunch, and I remembered that they had different jobs from the clothes they wore, or the way they spoke to others.

My mother, she taught me all that I needed to know to live in the world. The world, she said, within the walls.

Every morning, I was tied by a rope attached to my mother's harness, keeping up upon the cobbled streets. It was our routine, mainly because my mother pulled carts for a living, and after I was born, our owner had to put her right back to work. 

“Mama?” I recalled asking her. She turned to me, her warm brown eyes shining with wisdom far beyond the reach of my years. Within them, they seemed to contain the very meaning of the universe, and all I had to do was inquire on everything that came to me.

“Yes, my child?” She said, her tone lisped from the heavy bit. It tugged at her mouth, oftentimes resulting in angry sores. 

I glanced upwards with my own crystalline eyes — the eyes acquired from my unknown father. I glanced into the sprawling heavens, as endless as the world could be. Below, surrounding my world, were the very things I was curious about.

“What are those?” I asked, huffing as I trotted briskly to match her own sturdy gait. “Why can't I see anything beyond them?”

My mother attempted to smile through the snug noseband of her bridle. 

“Those are walls, my child,” She said. “The humans built them to protect their kind.”

My eyes widened. “Protect them, Mama? From what?”

Her expression changed, and her tall ears flicked in the softest edge of fear. 

“Titans, my dear. They're monsters — they attacked and ate the humans, and this is how they sought to defend themselves from the land beyond.”

“But I can't see them, Mama!”

“Of course you can't. The walls were made so big, that no titan could get through.”

“What about us, Mama?” I asked again. “Are we protected, too? Will the titans hurt us?” 

She chuckled softly, a hearty nicker that was music to my ears. To the humans, it was merely gibberish, because they ignored it. 

“They protect all of us, my child. The titans, as I've heard, haven't invaded in one-hundred years. We're safe, my darling.”

She managed to tug her tight reins enough to nuzzle my forehead, which I cherished deeply. She worked so hard, but expected nothing in return. It was the determination of her very mind and soul that gave me the hope each day would bring.

 

“My dear,” She told me one day, as we grazed in a field of green grass and brush. “You know we will not always be together.”

I paused from my frolicking about, confused. Here, our world was small, and I believed I would stay here forever. Safe from the titans, and next to my mother. I had no clue.

“What?” I nickered in protest. “No! It can't be!”

She appeared apologetic, but merely stepped closer to me. I couldn't have imagined that she wouldn't be by my side for as long as I lived, it didn't seem fair. 

I nuzzled myself into the crook of her neck, like I always did; her large form over my thin one made me feel like she was my wall. She was strong, sturdy, and tall — and although I'd soon grow to be like her, the future was uncertain. I'd only lived in the present, in the very second.

“Mama,” I whispered. I was fearful for the future, and what it would bring. “I don't want to be alone.”

“You won't be, my child,” She nickered soothingly. She lifted her head, scanning the expanse of the summer meadow. The sun glossed over the grass beneath our hooves, warming our coats and our spirits.

She them glanced at me so lovingly. “I'll always be with you, even if you don't see me. Just..look at the sky.At the clouds, and the birds. With them, I'll always be around. 

If you're ever lost, and you don't know what to do, follow the sky. Let it take you wherever you go, and I'll give you strength.” 

I glanced upwards at the sky, as I often did. It was hard to imagine my mother's sturdy form galloping amidst the puffy clouds, and I frowned.

“But I can't see you up there, Mama!” I whinnied softly, squinting. Perhaps I had to look a little closer.

I suppose this was funny to her, because she released another of her warm, nickering chuckles and beckoned me closer.

“You don't see to see me to know I'm there,” She said. “You'll know, because you'll feel me right here, in your heart.”

Her nose pressed against my chest, her heartbeat the steady drum in my ears. I could understand this — so long as I remembered her presence, her heartbeat, and her everlasting love, I wouldn't be alone.

Little did I realize, she was preparing me for the worst.

A couple months later, the sun casted its glow far over the reach of the walls, and we were both resting in the stable. I enjoyed perking my head out of the stall door to watch the humans passing by, and sometimes I'd whinny at them to say a hello.

They would chuckle, and walk on. I'd grasped most of the human speech, if not all of it. In a rather fast segment of time, I had already begun to fill in my body with sturdy muscle and strengthening bone, my frame taking the shape of my mother's and the coat resembling my father's. The humans said so as they observed me.

“She's definitely got her father's eyes,” My owner said, leaning over the door. I glanced at him momentarily, and then continued to nurse.

The man next to him replied, “She's got his coat, alright. But her mother's spunk is in there, also — she's gonna be a tough nut to crack when you break her in!”

My mother explained to me what a “tough nut to crack” was, so as I wasn't too alarmed. It merely was a weird way to say that I was strong, just like her. I liked that — being strong. I considered myself as such, considering the fact that I had my mother's strength in my heart.

Suddenly, a massive explosion filled the area.

It was nothing like I had ever heard before — chunks of rock blasted out of all directions, a furious wind whipping about. I cried out for my mother as the stable swayed under the immense impact, as I had little idea of what was going on.

Humans were running here and there, screaming and crying. A mother sobbed as she tried to pull her child out from a collapsed roof, and some of our own brethren were galloping blindly from pure panic.

In a flash, our owner was gone. Blood streaked the streets and splattered the buildings, and my mind suddenly reverted back to that pure instinct.

My mother snorted wildly, and then yelled a simply words to me.

“RUN!”

I didn't hesitate. She broke the stall door with a furious jab of her legs, and I flew free. Rocks tumbled and I soon could see what was causing this utter panic and commotion.

Massive beings, much like naked human beings, lumbered in from a hole in the very wall that protected us. They grabbed the fleeing townspeople and ripped off their heads, swallowing them whole as they yelled for help and mercy.

The titans had invaded.

I galloped past them, my eyes wide. Haunted. It was a disaster, but luckily, these monsters didn't touch us. I galloped onwards, ignoring the screaming in my chest, gasping for air. I couldn't stop until I reached safety.

It was only when I looked back did I realize my mother wasn't behind me. 

I stopped, skidding on the blood-slicked earth. Human remains were everywhere, and a wave of sickness overcame me as I recognized the severed arms and heads were once people.

“Mama?” I cried out. All I could see was dust, ash, and the lonesome flames that wrecked homes as they were destroyed. 

No answer.

Perhaps I had to call out more. 

“MAMA! WHERE ARE YOU?!” I whinnied again, a shrill tone. Nothing. I couldn't hear her hoof steps, her recognizable voice. 

Needless to say, I didn't understand death. My mother never explained it to me, but it was such a routine part of life. But this invasion was anything but routine, and as a filly of a few months, it was a very sudden lesson that kicked me in the gut.

She was dead.

As the chaos ended in my area and spread towards the rest of the city, I cautiously and nervously trotted back towards our barn. So many memories were made there, and now I found it hard to believe that it was now a mass of shredded wood and stone.

When I saw the telltale foot of what could only be my mother under the barn, I couldn't speak. I thought she had come with me, to escape.

Still, I refused to believe my mother was gone. I kicked her hoof. 

“Ma, wake up! Wake up! We have to run!” I screeched, a series of shrill whinnies that would surely attract the attention of the titans. Although their main prey was humans, I feared they would come to me for a snack, too.

There was no movement. I tried to move the chunks of timber that used to be our stable, but I wasn't strong enough. Something inside me faded as I saw the devastation of the titans, and the death of my mother was little help.

I glanced to the sky, again — muddled with smoke and dust. Still, there was a gap of sun, rays calmly glistening on the ravaged city. Strength, my mother told me, would be inside me all along; but only if I could find it.

I supposed I found the strength to escape that place. It was the only world I knew from when I was born, so leaving is was a task. Only a few months old, then, I had still much to see than the walls that surrounded me, and unprepared for the outside, I cried out in a sense of hopelessness.

Wall Maria, the wall that connected all the districts, was broken. A smattering of broken rock and wood covered my way, and a sudden avalanche of debris smacked my head to one side as I weakly ambled along.

Strength was hard to come by. By the the time night fell, and I could see no hope left to spare, I collapsed near a tree and cradled my injured head. I couldn't see from my left eye — it was a mess of blood and gore, streaming down my cheeks to my muzzle.

It was there, that I decided I was going to die.

 

Was it a few days, or maybe only a couple hours? I couldn't tell, but my limp form was scooped up by a dirty-looking, but kindly older gentleman. He hushed some comforting words as he placed me into his cart, where he and his large steed carried me to his farm.

I was surprised to see that some areas of the wall were not completely destroyed, and some people still had enough time to evacuate if they weren't directly in the impact. My head throbbed and my consciousness faded in and out as the world changed and blurred in front of my eye.

Forests, lush and green, greeted us as we approached the next wall. Everybody was heading there, it seemed — after all, where else were they supposed to go?

I only faintly recalled being hauled off the cart, and into a clean barn. I wailed softly, partially from pain and from the events that occurred not long ago. I cried for my mother, the one who offered me strength and hope for what I believed would be a fulfilling life. Alas, that was destroyed, like the walls we used to call home.

For the next few days, I was looked after. My ruined eye was bandaged thickly, and I forced myself to eat. They offered me some soft feeds, in replacement of milk, and I took it gladly. I was starving, weak, and tired.

Where was home, anyway? The idea of being settled was suitable enough for me. This barn was so different. I thought I recognized some horses from my city, and I asked them if they had come from there.

“Did you come from the invaded city, too?” I nickered softly to one dark stallion in particular.

His haunting gaze sent a chill down my neck. 

“You mean, Shingashina? Yes.” He gave me one last sideways glare before turning his back to me, clearly unwilling to talk.

I was utterly alone, and I craved the warmth of my mother every day and every night.

“Shut up!” The dark stallion snapped, as I whimpered in my stall one night. “Stop sniveling!”

He was rude, and I didn't wish to speak with him anymore. In fact, I stopped speaking altogether.


	2. 002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Not very long, my apologies. Next chapter will be more action packed near the end, that I can promise you ;w;
> 
> Enjoy! Thanks for the kudos, I do appreciate it as well as comments and feedback!
> 
> Sandstone's ref [for those interested, drawn by me] — http://imgur.com/WF0upwN

A year passed, then two. Summer faded into winter, awakened in the bright light of spring, and then again.

My mind grew along with my body. Muscle surrounded sturdy bone, and I grew into my too-tall legs so that I looked decently well proportioned. The fuzz I carried from my foal days had long gone, replaced with a glossy coat. I was the odd one of the barn I now called home, mainly because I was the only roan mare ever seen.

The splotched, flecked, and melted pattern upon my frame, and the sandy-colored mane and tail gave me the name, “Sandstone”. I reminded my owner of a layered rock that sometimes could be found upon the earth here, and was named because my pattern strongly resembled it.

My eyes would have added to my striking features — but I was blind in the one damaged. I never fully healed from the incident in my hometown, Shingashina. Thus, despite the care I was given, I was permanently blind in my left eye, giving it a milky, clouded appearance. A pale pink scar wormed over my eyelid, so when I blinked, it was a sight to see.

My owner still remarked my beauty, despite the flaws, calling me his “favorite girl”. I adored him, because he rescued me from certain death. He gently eased me into the life of a working horse, breaking me in with tack of all kinds.

Sometimes I carried him on my back, and he would talk to me about all sorts of things as we walked around the town. It was a district in Wall Rose, the next wall after Maria. He'd speak to me of his experiences as a child, and how his son was serving in the Survey Corps.

“I worry about him, Sandstone,” He drawled quietly, riding me through the early morning streets, “I always hope he comes back when he goes outside the walls. Not all of them do, anyways.”

I listened with perked ears, his voice reminding me of my mother's warm nicker. Not once had I been outside of the walls, and I wouldn't dream of it. I was content here, and I was done with thinking about those titans. I blamed them for killing my mother, but I couldn't contain my bitterness for all time.

My new owner, whom was named Noah, had a heart of pure gold. He was generous and kind, with love to spare for the five horses he had; me, the dark stallion, and three young colts. He hadn't intended on bringing in any more horses, but he told me he couldn't leave me there on that day.

“When I saw you there, I couldn't bear to abandon you. With your injured eye and all — sometimes, I curse my inability to turn any living creature away. Especially those with four legs and a tail.” He patted my broad neck with a soft hum of some folk song, and we relaxed in my easy pace. 

But good things never lasted forever, and what I thought would be a once again normal life ended with Noah's blunt statement one day. He entered the barn with a deep frown, eyes blank and voice unable to contain his grief.

“He's dead.”

I assumed his son, and I felt terrible for him. Immediately, he stroked my forehead, seeking some form of comfort in the sudden news he'd received. I sought to give him some happiness, some hope in these dark times, but little did I realize he wouldn't be able to keep me here much longer. It didn't take long for my fears to be confirmed.

One day, while still in a state of deeply-engraved sorrow, Noah grabbed my halter, clipping in on and leading me outside. I noticed that he still had the other horses in the barn, but he had some friends lead them out, too.

I got nervous. 

“Hey! What's going on?” I called out to those who would listen. My alarmed tone elicited a soft hush from my owner.

He wasn't telling us where we were going, and I could tell the uneasiness spread to the others. The dark stallion was half-dragged, yanking his slender head about to attempt to turn back.

It was no use to fight, and soon, he proceeded to obediently walk with his head hung in defeat. His spirit was snuffed like a candle.

I watched as the colts followed, but purely from the instinct of following the rest of the herd. Not that I really knew them, or truly fitted in, but I sympathized with their obvious anxiety.

None of us knew where we were being led. It wasn't a normal circumstance; given my owner's solemn expression and his attempts to cheer me up, I knew it was something bad.

“They'll take good care of you,” Noah murmured, leading me towards a rather crowded marketplace. “I need the money, you see, and I'm afraid I can't keep you anymore.”

I stopped. I was sick of change, sick of it disturbing my peaceful life. I had witnessed a horrific attack in my birthplace, and my mother died so I could live. Most of all, I desired a place to stay for the rest of my life, instead of constantly exchanging from one hand to another.

There were people, a bunch of them. They crowded the space, with humans and horses alike. They were clad in uniforms, tan jackets proudly displaying the military branch they served. 

I assumed they were looking for more horses to purchase, and I backed away. The overwhelming crowd was heightening my instinctive fight-or-flight mode, and it was leaning towards the latter.

Noah apologetically tugged on my lead.

“It's okay, now, girl,” He urged me on, although I moved in stubborn hops across the cobble plaza. The soldiers' eyes were pressed on me as I was forcefully pushed by an unseen hand, and made to walk faster out of alarm.

He approached one soldier in particular, a stern and cold-faced man with not a speck of hair on his head. The scowl on his lips seemed to drag his flat face down to his chiseled jaw, and I was deeply frightened.

I whinnied fearfully, pleading my owner to not let me go. The soldier looked cruel, and I was distrustful.

I overheard bits and pieces of the conversation Noah started, and the words he said were enough to quicken my breathing.

“My son..died on an expedition..can't afford my horses..letting them go..”

The soldier nodded, humming in what appeared to be sympathy. After settling his cold eyes on me, his scowl deepened as he saw my blind eye.

“Oh, that?” Noah said. “Don't worry, she's just fine with one eye. Sturdy as can be.”

The soldier continued to eye me with an icy gaze before he nodded. 

Whatever was exchanged, it was something my owner needed. And that meant giving me up, as well as the other horses, in the process. 

I was grabbed by another soldier and led in the opposite direction, and I jerked my head back just to see my old owner hastily walk away. I assumed he didn't want to see me being taken away like this.

Nothing I could do would make anything change. My former life vanished in a few moments, and as quickly as that, I was exchanged to a pair of different hands. The life I had was perfect enough — but if I had learned anything in my young life, it was that life never went the way I desired it to. 

The soldier that grabbed me led me towards a couple of well-groomed carthorses, tying me to the end of the wooden cart. I was expected to walk along to my new life, and abandon my old one. Whatever was in store for me, I didn't really know what to expect.

Nor did I want to.


	3. 003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos btw!! I really appreciate it, comments are nice as well! They really motivate me to write more on this story, I hope it gives a unique perspective on the AoT world c:

The walk was quite possibly the longest I had ever endured. Dawn gave way to midday, and the heat of the sun burned across my tired back. My legs ached in every step, and for a moment, I'd thought I'd rather face another titan than another hour of excruciating walking.

The soldiers talked amongst themselves, on topics that did little to concern me, nor distract me. I was merely a new purchase for them, and I don't think they thought of me as much more than a possession.

I sighed heavily, a billowing snort that emphasized my exhaustion. At last, the soldiers decided to stop in a large, grassy field — a resting area for the horses to reside until we were replenished.

One of the men untied me from the cart and led me to the grass, where I plunged into the foliage and drank my fill from a glistening stream. I was suddenly relieved of my pain and decided to lay onto the ground, my bones cracking as I rolled happily.

Blue skies filled my vision as I glanced upwards — the fact that I could only see one side of the world no longer bothered me as much as it used to. My mother's words still rang in my ears, in that moment, just as it had when I was a child. 

“If you're ever lost, and you don't know what to do, follow the sky. Let it take you wherever you go, and I'll give you strength.” 

The wind stirred around me. I cradled my mother's memory close, even when others of my kinds abandoned such memories in favor of living in the present.

I suppose that's what made me stand out amongst the others; not only because my coat was one of a kind, but my mind was that of a daydreamer. I managed to get myself into the deepest corner of my head, when other horses preferred to keep their musings shallow.

The break was done, and I was hooked back to the cart. This time, I was closer to the horse pulling it, and we began to strike up a chat as we walked along the dusty road.

“My name's Valkyrie,” The bay mare whinnied.

“I'm Sandstone,” I replied, already beginning to enjoy her company.

Her eye glanced to my blind one, the one facing her.

“What happened to your eye?” She inquired, bobbing her head to her steady gait. “Were you attacked?”

I swallowed uneasily. The mere mention of the word, attacked, sank into my bones and made me shudder. The memory was just too strong, too vivid. I recalled my mother's foot, her body crushed under the rubble of my old home..it was too much to bear at times, especially when my blind eye was mentioned.

“Yes, I was,” I replied simply, wanting to drop the subject.

Valkyrie seemed to understand my discomfort on the subject, and dropped it.

“Where are we going?” I asked, unable to see much of anything other than grassland and blue skies. 

The bay mare flicked her ears. “We're going to the base of the Cadet Corps.”

“Cadet Corps?”

“Yeah — the humans go there to train for a couple years, before they can go into one of the three military branches.”

Valkyrie seemed to be quite knowledgable on the humans and their military. I was only aware of the one that went outside of the walls, the Survey Corps, but nothing much other than that. 

“Which branches are there?” I asked, nickering curiously.

Valkyrie answered without skipping a beat. She explained that one branch, the Stationary Guard, maintained the walls. They had two roses on their uniforms. The Military Police had a green unicorn, and kept order, but I rarely caught a glimpse of them as they stayed in the centermost wall. 

The Survey Corps had blue and white wings, which I recalled from their returns from expeditions. I knew what they did — they ventured far beyond what any human deemed to be the boundary of safety. 

I was amazed by those humans, I truly was. Their strength, and their courage was unmatched to many. They were called all sorts of names, like crackpots and suicidal idiots. I often frowned upon those insults — they were dedicating their lives for the survival of their kind, and they rarely got anything of honor in return.

I inquired if Valkyrie had ever gone outside the walls.

She shook her head.

“I haven't, but one of my good companions has,” She whinnied softly. “When we get to base, perhaps you can try to ask him about it.” 

However, her tone indicated something of uncertainty, as if it wasn't clear if this horse would say anything or not.

It wasn't too long before the expanse of the base appeared. I allowed Valkyrie to guide me towards the stables, unseen by my blind side, while my right glanced at all the buildings and equipment.

Smaller humans — teenagers, as they were called — busily balanced themselves in weird swings attached to their hips. Why they were doing this, I was unsure. Valkyrie told me it was to practice using their “three-dimensional gear”. 

Clearly, there was so much more I had to learn about the military life.

 

Fritz was one of the oldest resident horses in the Cadet Corps. He, and the others (including myself) were to fulfill the role of training the young soldiers how to ride.

His coat was a stunning black, like pure night on the figure of a horse, and tall like the skinny trees that sparsely inhabited the land. Old, experienced eyes sparkled with the wisdom of his age, and I could tell he was nearing an elderly era when I saw his dipped back and lanky frame.

He first eyed me with suspicion; as with the other training horses, who sniffed me and stared at me as I was tied in the barn. They were all of similar temperament as required; lots of patience, flexibility in speed, and sympathy.

Horses could be sympathetic, indeed — but as Valkyrie told me, the humans did not understand how complex out emotional range was.

I was between her and Fritz in my new home, and many other of our brethren were around us as well. Although nervous, afraid, and unsure, I maintained a posture of calm as I absently nibbled on my hay.

Fritz snorted sharply.

“Hey, you!” He nickered, his tone harsh and gravelly. I flinched, mustering the courage to raise my head to him.

His gaze flickered over my good and blind eye with such iciness I nearly shivered. 

“Yes?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. His body language was strong and aggressive, so naturally I shriveled under it.

He was clearly the alpha of the place, having been here for far longer than any other horse.

“Val told me you wished to hear about my experiences with the Survey Corps,” Fritz said, a bit softer this time. He snorted, nostrils billowing calmly. “I apologize if I scared you — I intimidate all the newcomers.” 

I did my best to imitate a shrug, a lazy twitch of my shoulders. I was quite curious of what he would say, since he seemed to be alright with retelling his stories.

“Around ten years ago,” He started, swishing his tail, “I was the mount of a former squad leader.” 

“I've been on countless expeditions. You'd think that, by now, I've gotten used to the blood, the torture, the suffering — but I never have.” He paused, as if reflecting over his sorrows with a solemn flicker in his gaze.

I, being so naïve and relatively new to this world, had only remembered the mass chaos of the fall of Shingashina. Nothing else, however, seemed to compare to the fact that Fritz had to deal with death many times over.

He continued. 

“I was passed through many riders over my years in the Survey Corps. You wouldn't believe how quickly they go — one moment, your rider is guiding you through unknown terrain, the next moment, you're all alone,” He said. “My rider, he was scouting on the outskirts of the formation. He was snatched by a titan, and I could only watch as he screamed and cried, his humanity broken as his limbs were ripped apart, right in front of my eyes. It's something I won't forget. Ever.”

“The titans..they cause a lot of death and destruction,” I mused out loud.

Fritz bobbed his head in an affirmative nod. “They exist seemingly for the thrill of consuming humans. Not horses, of course — but I've seen many of my brothers smashed by falling buildings and titan corpses.” He sighed heavily. “They honor the sacrifices the humans make for the benefit of their kind, but what about us? We carry them faster and longer than they could on foot, through dangerous terrain and extreme weather. We break our legs so theirs can still work. Yet, while their deaths are honored, ours are not.”

Valkyrie peered her head over towards him, upon hearing him speak.

“Well,” She nickered, “To them, we're merely disposable. We get killed, they just get more. Humans value their kind over any other. That's just how it is.”

“How it is?” Fritz nickered hotly. “Indeed — it's despicable. I had many good friends that died saving their riders, but they were simply replaced by more.”

I never quite understood the reality of our worth. As a child, I felt my mother put all of her love and worth upon me, and made me feel unique and just as important as anyone else in the world. There, and then, my hope in being a strong individual faded. Was I really that insignificant? Was I truly just a pawn for the humans to use until I was no longer needed?

“We are just a means of transport to them, anyway, Fritz. A convenience. Like their blades, once they become dull they just grab new ones. Just like us.” Valkyrie's lips pressed into some form of a frown, and our moods were all equally disheartened.

I think we all slept with the mire of worthlessness resting on our backs. The first night in that barn, I realized how loud the cadets nearby could be. Screaming, tousling, and jabbering like riled up songbirds. It was only when the scary bald man yelled at them to shut up did I finally sleep.

 

I had been in a pleasant dream, one of pure green grass and childhood memories was I suddenly stirred to consciousness.

A burly soldier tapped my flank with a crop, which instantly frightened me to my feet. 

Glancing around, I couldn't see Fritz or Valkyrie. The soldier approached my blind side, which made me visibly flinch.

My old owner knew to always approach me from my good side, since then I could tell he was there. Even with good hearing, it was unnerving to be unable to see a presence next to me.

He grabbed my halter and pulled me from the comfort of my stall, leading me outside, growing rays of sunlight glowing on the dark earth.

There, I was promptly saddled and bridled, as well as numerous other horses. Nervous-looking cadets hesitantly hopped on and anxiously attempted to steer the creatures, as the instructors yelled commands and criticized their actions.

The stress in the air was incomprehensible. 

A string bean of a cadet hastily clambered onto my back, his aura teeming with fear. It was clear that, from his stiff posture, he wasn't used to being on a horse. Despite my own nervousness, I ignored the awkward yanking of the bit and the harsh kicking of my sides and started at a slow, easy pace.

He seemed to become more and more confident as our session drawled on, and when I felt his pressure relaxing, I began to work at a faster pace. 

It became a routine, of sorts; I would gradually increase my speed as my rider got more at ease with being in the saddle. I didn't consider it a burden. I never grew impatient like some of the other horses. While they sometimes bucked and bolted, I lazily shuffled along while a shaky cadet pulled sloppily on the reins.

My mother's virtues of kindness and pure love emanated from me each day. I began to love the task of training recruits how to ride, and considered it an honor to make them into strong future soldiers. Alas, as I saw each and every one of them, I realized some would never return to their families — if they went outside the walls, that is. 

Day in and day out, as the weeks trudged by and turned into months, I slowly began to accept the fact that whoever learned on my back wouldn't live past the next couple of years. The Survey Corps was a highly controversial branch in general, but for those determined enough to venture outside the confines of the walls, it was their ticket to adventure.

I feared for those young humans. They were children, not much different than yearlings. Yet, they were sent out into hell and back for the sake of humankind, and it pained me to see them leave seemingly to their deaths.

Alas, I was a horse. Of course I'd never begin to wrap my head around such concepts of sacrifice, and bravery. Neither one of those virtues I held — all I knew was my sympathy towards people that oftentimes didn't understand the threat of the titans, and the fear of being eaten. 

I couldn't speak to them, the way they spoke to each other. Believe me, I tried — however, a simple “hello!” doesn't translate to human tongues, and they just chuckle in amusement. 

However, they wouldn't chuckle so much if I could speak, and tell each and every naïve cadet just how horrific the wrath of the titans were, and how they claimed my normal life before I had truly lived it.


	4. 004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sandstone experiences more loss, but also begins the journey that takes her where she's never been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this chapter's sad but do i regret it? nah :^)
> 
> enjoy, and give some kudos and maybe a comment! both make my day!

Working in the Cadet Corps was hard, but rewarding. I looked forward to the hours of hard riding and constant gait shifting, if it meant that those who rode me gained a sense of confidence overall. It was of a great honor to serve the human military in this manner, and I was sure that if my mother was around, or my old owners, they'd be prouder than ever before. 

My transformation proved to be somewhat significant; over months of hard work came bulging muscle that gave out my quarter horse lineage — my limbs were sturdy, like branches of sinew and bone. This made me an ideal cart horse as well, and when I wasn't being ridden, I was being used to transport supplies to and from the base. 

The soldiers appreciated my easiness in working, and my kind aura seemed to calm anyone in my vicinity. I suppose I was a star of sorts; once the cadets were more experienced in horsemanship, they always argued over who would ride me.

“Hey, you rode her yesterday!” One cadet snapped at the other.

They shook their head. “No, that was another horse.”

“Oh, really? What horse looks exactly like her?”

“I dunno, maybe look around instead of having your head up your ass!”

To be honest, it was simply another source of entertainment. They were like sparring colts, playfully bucking their words to and fro. A grand reprieve from my work before I had to return to my duties.

Fritz's health declined rapidly over the winter. The first winter was difficult enough, but he'd managed to survive the almost fatal cough and cold he'd gotten. Come spring, we all thought he bounced back — he was his regular, old, grumpy self.

“Can't they rub my legs down properly? Right now I'm just feeling some half-assed petting,” He snorted incredulously, unsatisfied as the cadets untacked him. Although his eyes clouded with pain as he stamped one hoof, he added, “This is an outrage! Damn human kids don't know anything!”

I remember whinnying in laughter over his crabby musings, but it was all temporary. Each morning, it got steadily more taxing for the stallion to get up. The soldiers had to put a rope around his neck and lower belly in an effort to pull him to his feet.

Even then, he never gave up his feisty spirit, and still told stories of his time in the Survey Corps.

One time, he told me, he saved a whole squadron of soldiers from an impending titan attack.

“I heard their vibrations far before anyone. So, to warn them, I kept nickering towards their direction — at least five of em, ten meters tall. The humans, they don't have the best hearing, you see, they don't hear the titans until they're fairly close.

Finally, my rider responded to my warning and told his men to move out. If we had waited any longer, they would surely have all been overpowered and eaten. From that day on, I was nicknamed the “titan siren”, and the soldiers all watched me closely for forewarning of the giant beasts.”

I thought of Fritz as a hero; not just for his brethren, but the humans, too. Despite his disappointment towards not being honored, he still served the Survey Corps until he was considered too old to be ridden on expeditions anymore.

I inquired on how old he was, and the black horse merely chuckled. A throaty, gravelly nicker, a smile reached his whiskery lips as he said, “Kid, you don't want to know. I'm a fossil compared to you.”

He added some life to a rather quiet barn. I wasn't the talkative type, but neither were most of the horses. Isolated conversations filled the air from time to time, shrill whinnies towards a distant comrade — but little else.

The second winter I had been with the Cadet Corps, I regretfully say, put another nail in Fritz's metaphorical coffin. 

Every night, the icy chill of the wind creeped through the cracks in the wooden stalls, and the stallion's wheezing and hacking added to the haunting weather. Even the soldiers grew concerned, and stopped riding him to allow a chance to recover. Still, I could tell he wasn't faring well. He barely spoke, for his voice was stolen by whatever ailed him so terribly.

“His joints are swollen pretty bad,” One of the officers said, tentatively feeling Fritz's legs. His eyes were clouded with pain, almost distant.

Another soldier clicked his tongue in pity. He nudged the half-asleep stallion, and I watched the scene unfold. It appeared he was going to stand up, but as his front legs lurched upwards, his hind ones refused to follow, and he collapsed back into the straw with an exhausted groan, breaths heaving from such effort.

I knew the stallion; he was a strong figure, somebody who gave me some chance to fit in with the military life. He was a mentor, and somebody I looked up to and respected.

Valkyrie told me what happened to horses as sick as he was. Frankly, I was horrified.

“They take sick horses far from the barn,” She said quietly, “And they shoot them.” 

The thought of Fritz staring wistfully at a gun's barrel made me shudder. I pitied him as well, I really did — but Valkyrie told me that it was for the best, even if I didn't agree. 

“Don't you see how much pain he's in?” The bay mare nickered softly, glancing at his half-sleeping form. Normally, he stood in his stall, but now he barely had the energy to lift his head.

"It wouldn't be fair to make him live like this. If there's one thing I agree with the humans, it's that he should be put out of his misery.”

I watched as he barely moved, sorrow aching my heart and chest. “But..isn't that just a disregard for his life? You said yourself that humans think we're disposable. They'll just replace him with another horse.”

Valkyrie shook her head. “Fritz is known not just by us, but by the humans themselves for his bravery outside the walls. I'm sure he'll be honored in some way — and even if another horse takes his stall, nobody will truly replace him here. That's a fact.”

She was right. The next day, I had awoken to find that his stall was empty. Instead, a bundle of flowers sat where he used to lay, the sunlight touching directly on the dusty straw. Throughout the day, the mood was solemn, and the cadets didn't talk quite as much. The buzz was muted, as if the absence of the stallion had sucked away their enthusiasm. 

Some of the cadets came by his empty stall, setting flowers of all colors and sizes onto the slowly growing pile of flora. Perhaps we weren't as disposable as we once thought — but I still believed that, by the end of the week, they'd bring in a new horse and Fritz would fade into the past, hidden in the depths of time and forever diminished in the humans' memories. 

When Valkyrie and I were turned out together, I stayed by her side, my head resting upon her back while she grazed. We became fast friends, perhaps a bit more after Fritz's passing. I found comfort in her wisdom and grace, as if she had some of my mother's happiness locked in her earth-brown gaze. 

Alas, I felt my time here would soon be interrupted. After all, it had been in my last two homes. I no longer expected to live in one place for the rest of my days — with the threat of the titans, the soldiers still spoke, with worrisome tones, if they were to invade Wall Rose next.

The day I was to exchange hands came quicker than I believed. That spring morning, I had been grazing quietly in the pasture, tail busily swishing the flies off my flanks. My blind eye was useless in calculating any danger upon the horizon, but my keen hearing did the seeing for me quite often. This way, I was rarely caught off guard.

Metal rustled and boots crunched on the earth, approaching towards my fence. I lifted my head, swinging it over so that I could see who had come to visit.

These humans were not familiar. I could recognize the cadets versus the older soldiers, and easily knew who was who. Perhaps not by name, but by personality. These humans also wore different symbols on their uniforms — instead of the two swords of the Cadet Corps, they had two shimmering wings. 

I recognized them from what Fritz had told me. The Wings of Freedom, I whispered mentally, my ears perked. There were around three of them, and each had their own horses led by reins. Their lean figures and slender legs were clearly built for speed and endurance. 

I didn't know what was going on. Why were the Survey Corps here? I glanced over to Valkyrie, who merely casted them a glare and continued eating. She didn't enjoy being bothered in the pasture, but I enjoyed human company after being around it so much for over two years.

One human in particular stared right at me. Their russet brown hair was messily tied into a ponytail on their head, a contraption that appeared to be for their eyes resting just on their forehead as well. They, or perhaps she, continued to stare at me alone. It was a tad creepy, I'll admit, but she had a wide grin on her face, and her body language indicated that, while confident, she meant me no harm.

I was surprised to see her hope the fence and approach me, her strides long and unafraid. I stepped closer, curious. 

“Hi, there!” She cooed. “You're just gorgeous, did you know that?”

I didn't know how to react. I supposed I was quite interesting to look at — a lot of humans stared at me — but I did nothing except cautiously sniff her.

She chuckled, reaching her hand. I felt her press it against my blind side, right near my old wound, and flinched noticeably.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” She said, her tone softer this time. She frowned as she stepped back, narrowed in on my blind eye. “You've been through a lot, huh, girl?”

At this, I bobbed my head up and down, something I had seen humans do to say "yes" (although it wasn't as exaggerated).

She chuckled again, clearly amused. Turning to her comrades, she said something to them I strained to her, but it was clear she was interested in me. Glancing at Valkyrie, I realized I wasn't ready to go. I still had to say goodbye to her, maybe offer some silent exchange of words to poor Fritz—

“Come on, girl, you're coming with me,” The woman said, slipping a halter over my face. There was no time to say goodbye, but I managed to whinny one last crestfallen farewell to my friend, who called back with the same tone of sadness.

I was going with the woman, to the Survey Corps — at this point, I was unsure of everything, but now, all I could do was follow her to wherever life took me next. It was a constant journey, this way and that, and I no longer expected to truly belong anywhere.


	5. 005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was writing this, and i realized sandstone would need a buddy while in the Survey Corps.
> 
> so i said, "fuck it — let's drop in a mule."
> 
> yep. a mule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments + kudos are always appreciated <3 tysm for the support! i hope this story still appeals to my audience c:

Another journey began. This time, however, it took less time. The two bases weren't that far apart, and we were going at a rather quick pace. The whole time, I was tied to a horse-drawn wagon, trotting easily with the crowd. 

The nice lady that took me was sitting in the seat of the wagon, which held some supplies and basic other things the soldiers needed. She was muttering to herself, writing in a small notebook. I never grasped the concept of writing; what was the point of putting words on paper? Perhaps I was missing out on an important idea, but I always assumed humans tended to forget things more than horses did.

I preserved my memories quite well, like prized antiques. They never collected dust, and if I ever felt the need to, I could imagine myself back to my childhood days, where death and destruction was still a concept so foreign to me, I was untainted with the most pure of innocence. 

I could go back to when my mother taught me about the walls, and how the humans were so adept at building them to keep the titans out. I imagined her soothing voice, warm like milk, calming my anxious mind when the world was too overwhelming.

A soft sigh billowed from my nostrils, partially from the depressing nostalgia, and partially from the overcoming exertion on my body. We were trotting for quite a while, but I had good endurance, and I didn't quit. 

My pace was considered by the humans to be extremely desirable, mainly because it was smooth and easy to sit on. Not all horses had the gift of such smooth gaits, as I was told. Valkyrie informed me that her trot, for example, was choppy and far too fast for a novice rider. 

Mine was quite a fortunate ability to hold. Beginners were able to sit my trot if needed, and when uncomfortable, my walk was slower than a snail's. My canter ranged from a limping lope to a long-stride run, and my gallop? Apparently, it was phenomenal, like sitting on a cloud. 

Best of all, perhaps, was the fact that I could keep my pace for hours at a time. Thus, this was most likely why I was chosen to be sold to the Survey Corps, the ones who needed hardy horses with excellent endurance.

The thought of going outside the walls made me anxious. My heart was throbbing from pounding against my ribcage. We passed tall, green, feathery trees and the golden sunlight blazed upon our backs in the midst of the midday sun. 

“We're almost there, girl,” The goggles-wearing lady said, smiling to me from above her notebook. Her tone assured me in away that allowed me to relax a bit, my tail swishing away the remainders of the annoying flies. 

The remainder of the scattered, rich forest gave way to paved roads and small houses, rickety farms stretched wide over the sunny landscape.

Some horses were grazing out in the pastures, and I uttered to them a polite whinny in greeting. Some of them replied back with a joyous cry of their own, others were to preoccupied with their meal of foliage.

We were getting close, like the nice lady said. I perked my ears as I heard the familiar yelling of humans. This time, however, there were more. Much more. They were decked out in metal boxes and titan-fighting gear, blades flashing as some whizzed by over my head. Some kind of training exercise, like the Cadet Corps did often. They even used me to leap off of in preparation for titan fighting off horseback. 

I was unfazed, and the nice lady was impressed.

“You're used to the noise, huh?” She pocketed her notebook with a smile, and the wagon slowed us to an easy walk. “That's exactly what we need; horses like you.”

I couldn't help but feel a swell of happiness inside of me. This woman was so kind, so understanding. I was normally poor with being transferred to new, foreign environments, but the trip here was made easier by her calming presence.

The hustle and bustle of the Survey Corps intensified as we reached the base. It was settled in what appeared to be the grounds of a castle. Slightly in disrepair, the stone structure rose to heights that were only matched by the walls, it seemed. Glinting in the shining sun were panels of stained glass, shards of red, blue, and green ornately decorating the windows. 

The castle itself was not the only building. In its near vicinity, scattered structures remained. They used to be houses, most likely. Now, they were under the military's control.

I watched as humans flitted in and out the entrances, like overexcited birds. Constantly talking, yelling, laughing and conversing. There was never a complete end to the noise humans made, and I absently picked up a conversation or two as the cart stopped.

“..what the hell..”

“..damn scientist lady's done it again..”

“..bringing back a blind horse..”

“..won't survive out there..”

My heart sank. The words hit my ears like a slap. Why was my arrival such a bad thing? I considered myself perfectly capable of doing normal things. I couldn't see from my left side, yes, but I had a keen sense of hearing and smell to make up for it. Humans didn't appear to understand the adaptive capabilities of a horse, and it discouraged me to quite an extent.

Head lowered, I felt a soft tug on the lead rope as the nice lady led me to a barn, a long building abundant with open stalls and windows. Horses stuck their heads out of the doors with a curious flick of their ears, watching me intently as they had when I first entered the Cadet Corps barn. I was used to it, you could say.

For the time being, I was to be kept in a place called “quarantine” — a barn isolated from the rest of the Survey Corps equine population. This was to ensure that the newcomers would not pass anything harmful to them, and could be observed closely for signs of ailment and injury. It was also a resting time to get adjusted to this place.

Halter off my face, I groaned and flopped onto the sawdust as the nice lady left me to rest. Warm light filtered into my stall as I steadily took in the scent of the barn, and the horses that were as new to this place as I was. Still, despite my exhaustion, I barely reached the brink of full sleep when I heard the nice lady's voice paired with the harsh snapping of a human man,

“The fuck did you do now, Shit-Glasses?”

“I got us another horse! She's very steady for cart pulling.”

“Never mind that, are you fucking serious? A half-blind animal?”

“She'll be fine!”

“Yeah, fine until the fucking expedition and it doesn't see a titan crushing it, because it can't see shit from one side!”

“You're so mean, heichou! She's adorable. And, she's got the best endurance I've ever seen in a horse.”

“This is probably one of the stupidest things you've ever done, Four Eyes.”

“Eh, I've done worse, according to you.”

A heavy sigh from the male human. Finally, he grudgingly replied, “Fine. Keep the damn horse. When it breaks its fucking leg because it can't see a titan coming, don't go crying to me.”

Footsteps marched away angrily. I didn't bother getting up, but my confidence was at an all time low. That man..he was so rude. How could anybody be so mean, especially since he hadn't even seen me? My mother had taught me that kindness and patience was key in maintaining an open mind, and as such, I never judged anybody without getting to know them first.

I supposed I'd have to meet that rude man before I made any quick assumptions. Finally settling into the pile of bedding, I allowed myself to drift off, a well-deserved reprieve from the action of the day.

 

Loud banging interrupted my sleep. It was already hours later, and the evening sun was seeping under the horizon. Dark shadows creeped over the floor, the dying light giving off its final golden illumination before the dark.

Still wallowing in the mire of sleep, I forced myself to stretch out, knees clicking as I lazily swung my head out my stall door. 

The loud banging, it turned out, was coming from a rather hotheaded mule, demanding his dinner the best way he could; head butting the entrance to the feed room. I watched, faintly amused, as the rather tall creature repeated this futile process many times, ending each with a haughty snort and a stamp of his hoof. 

I was about to ask if he was alright — perhaps he just needed some help — when a grouchy Survey Corps officer finally opened the door, pushing the greedy mule back as he struggled to carry out a bucket of grain.

At last, the sorrel male was satisfied, plunging his oddly curved head into the bucket as the officer stormed off. The people around here seemed none too pleased to cater to the mule's every want and need.

Eventually, the mule told me his name.

“Tumult,” He brayed, a clear indication of his inter-species genetics, “It means 'confusing noise', or something like that.”

“What are you, really?” I asked kindly, looking over his too-tall lobes and rather big bodily structure. “You're not exactly a horse.”

“You're right, my friend. I'm a mule. A happy accident, really — a female horse and a male donkey were locked up in one pen, they fell in love, and almost a year later, out pops me.”

Grey-ringed eyes flickered towards mine with a glimmer of curiosity, having abandoned his feed for the time being to converse with me.

“Geez, what's up with your eye? Looks all funky.”

“Yeah, I was blinded,” I replied softly, shifting my feet. 

Tumult took another few bites of his grain, chewing intently as he scored my face and features. I felt scrutinized with his intense staring, but it was more calculating than creepy. Finally, he spoke again.

“Lemme guess,” He brayed again, “You look like you're four, maybe five years old.”

I snorted softly. “Erm, five is correct. May I ask how you know?”

The Survey Corps mule swished his tail. “Your age..you were from Shingashina, weren't you?”

Shingashina. The mention of my birthplace coiled my gut in an emotional manner. I looked down at the earth this time, and this body language confirmed the mule's inference.

“Ah hah! So I'm right,” He said triumphantly. Upon seeing my solemn expression, he lowered his tall radar-like ears in a tinge of guilt. “I assume this is a sensitive subject for you..yes?”

I looked up at last. “It is,” I nickered. “I lost my mother in the attack.” 

“I'm terribly sorry.”

“It's alright.” I paused before adding, “I'm Sandstone, by the way.”

“Pleasure. Sorry, the grain's calling my name. This shit's better than freshly picked apples.”

I couldn't help but laugh a little. Tumult was quite the character.

“So..” I started, watching him finish off the feed with a satisfied lick of his lips, “How's the Survey Corps? What's is like?”

The mule perked his ears. “It's just fine for me — I pull wagons and such,” He uttered with a twitch of his shoulder. “But if you want to know what it's like outside the walls, I'm not the kind of guy to ask.”

Confused, I asked, “Well, why?”

“Well..have you heard the phrase ‘stubborn as a mule’? You see, horses like you are willing to work to death. Us mules, however, prefer to work to our limits, and stop. Abruptly. This does not work well in a titan-infested land.”

I wasn't sure if Tumult was joking or not, but then again, I knew little about mules. Or the Survey Corps in general. Most of my knowledge had come from Fritz, but it had been nearly a decade since he was last in the military. His information was most likely a tad outdated by now.

Tumult bid me a good night, shuffling back to his paddock with lazy, sleepy strides. He was interesting, if not a bit odd. Unique, more like. Just like me. Exhaustion still hung heavy upon my back as the last of the sun died off, leaving the stars to twinkle calmly in the velvet skies. The base was quiet, save for the buzzing of insects and occasional stomping of boots upon the paths.

There wasn't much else for me to do, but I lowered myself back into my bedding, curling inwards. Ever since I was a foal, I adopted the pose whenever I slept — it was a comforting way to assure myself that I was here, I was alive, and that I was whole.

Hopefully, it'd stay that way.


	6. 006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half-Moon picks on the new kid on the block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HM belongs to @/aurastars_artstuff on instagram. 
> 
> thanks for the kudos! comments are also appreciated <3

“CADET!”

A snappish yell aroused me from slumber, although I never recalled falling asleep. Spooked, I immediately rose to my feet, nostrils blazing.

Someone was outside of my stall. At first I shook it off, believing it was one of the humans upset at their trainees. Still, the shadows the figure casted was not of a human, but a horse.

Confused, I hesitantly peeked my head out of the stall door to have an interesting sight in front of me.

The horse I had seen in the shadow was a large white mare, mane and tail charcoal in color. She was obviously much taller than I was, her withers the height of my cheek at best. What confused me most, and made me question wether I was still dreaming, was the fact that this mare..had her own gear.

Indeed, her legs and belly were covered in rich brown leather straps, a web of intricate buckles and buttons and the like. A small blanket cover the first segment of her back, dark green with the Survey Corps emblem plastered on the side proudly. 

“Quit gawking, or do I need to shut that mouth for you?” She whinnied hotly, snapping me out of my daze.

I realized quickly that it wasn't a dream. There was a horse, an oddly colored one at that, with her own equipment like the humans'. It puzzled me to no end.

Shutting my own gaping maw, I allowed my good eye to observe her flattened ears and whipping tail, her aura seemingly shrouded with the vibes of her displeased impatience.

She approached closer to me, and I hopped back in surprise when she reached over to grip the stall latch in her teeth. With a good tug, she'd opened it for me, and stepped back, waiting.

“Get out here, or are you so damn blind you're gonna smash into the door?” She called, scowling.

I didn't appreciate her attitude. Frightened, although obedient, I sensed she was a superior of sorts. In equine terms, a herd leader. It was important for horses to have a leader to follow and to obey, for it was our only means of survival in the wild. A lone horse was a dead one.

Slowly, I shuffled into the courtyard, where the mare trotted ahead and awaited me on the paved clearing. 

She pawed the ground with a clack of her hoof, and instinctively I lowered my head in an act of submission. In the near vicinity, other horses appeared to shrink back as well. Indeed, this one was the ringmaster.

“Welcome to your new fucking home, Cadet. What do the humans call a one-eyed shithead like you, hm?” She demanded, causing me to flinch. 

I tried to get the words out of my throat, but I barely mustered a single letter. Finally, I stammered, “I-I-I'm S-Sandstone..”

“Sandstone?! Well, gosh fucking golly, didn't think you were stiff as a rock too,” She snorted.

Stiff? I shuffled my pale hooves awkwardly, feeling the mare's gaze burn into me like acid. 

“You know what? I can already guess what your name'll be while under my command — you like rocks, why don't you fuck 'em too, huh? Cadet Rockfucker, man, it already has a ring to it,” The leader continued, swishing her tail. A smirk was plastered upon her lips before she added, “I'm Half-Moon, equine commander of the Survey Corps. You will address me as 'Yes, Commander' or 'No, Commander' — no wishy-washy bullshit in between. Got it?”

Realizing quickly that I had no choice, I nodded softly, head still lowered. I had never met someone so intimidating, so angry and demanding right off the bat. I had done nothing to this Half-Moon, yet she was already giving me an incredibly crude and vulgar nickname. 

Quite frankly, I did not appreciate this, but I showed none of the irritation that flared within me along with my fear. Flicking my own tail sharply, I perked my ears rather than pinning them to my head, which I assumed was a big no-no to the commander of the horses.

“Right. First, Cadet Rockfucker, we salute. See how the humans do it?”

Half-Moon thrust her head to point behind me. Swinging my own towards that direction, I observed as two soldiers saluted a superior, their right fists clenched as they slammed it on their chests.

“Well, fuck it, we're saluting my way.” Half-Moon forced me in front of her with a snap at my flank, and I forced my legs to stop trembling. She was quite a frightening and talk creature, dwarfing me. It didn't help that I was already so anxious.

The equine put her left front leg in front of her chest, abruptly slamming her right leg over it. From the front, it appeared she only had three legs.

“That's the equine equivalent of the salute. Now, you do it.”

I was far too flustered, and when I tried to mirror her exact moves, I nearly stumbled onto my knees.

“Cadet Rockfucker, your heart is not on that side! Try again, and don't make it backwards.” 

Again and again, I failed to meet the commander's harsh requirements. Stamping her hooves, she paced impatiently back and forth as I meekly attempted the salute, a tiny nicker escaping my lips purely from the stress and exasperation.

“I hope I'm not hearing you bitch about this! It's the Survey Corps, Cadet, not a pretty pony pageant!” 

“I-I'm not,” I murmured softly, shuffling my hooves. Horses' feet were heavy, and over time, constantly lifting and slamming them in a constant repetitive rhythm was tiring me more than the verbal attack I faced.

“Quit sniveling and keep practicing your salute! And don't stop until you get it right, because I'm so damn close to kicking your ass like the useless pebble you are!” HM snorted and stepped back, observing my meager attempts with a cold stare.

After a couple minutes, I finally mastered it. It was an odd and unnatural pose, something I wasn't used to. Never in my life was I forced in such a position, much less by my own kind. I had assumed, perhaps far too quickly, that my brethren were all supportive and as benevolent as I was made to be. Perhaps there was more to this world than I thought, even with my own share of experiences.

“Cadet Rockfucker! Show me your salute!” 

Snapping to attention, as well as the other horses around me, I took a sharp breath and proceeded through what I had just practiced. This time, I showed no fear. That is what the commander disliked, and my eager to please personality was both a virtue and a burden in this case.

Luckily, Half-Moon saluted back, swishing her tail and expression stern, but otherwise not fuming for once. “Well, Cadet, that was half-fucking-decent. Next time I come into your sight, you better do exactly that,” She scowled, her teeth bared. “Not a single mistake. You better learn quick, or else you're as good as dead.”

With that, she left. The horses visibly relaxed, and I sighed in relief. The whole scenario was jarring enough. I was mortified, embarrassed, humiliated, and given a terrible nickname above all. Still, I knew I couldn't get angry or upset. Being too emotional would ruin my chances of surviving here — after all, this branch probably had the highest mortality rates of all of them, for both human and horse lives.

Rather than feeling irked towards this, I learned. I learned that the commander didn't like it when I instinctively flinched and lowered my head in her presence. Instead, I forced myself to straighten up, head forward, and salute promptly. I learned that there was a fairly strict schedule in the Survey Corps, and that each day blended into another after a little while. Things began to meld together, and I supposed I was fitting into the mold of the more demanding military lifestyle.

Since the next expedition was still over a month away, I was put to work for the time being. Hauling carts of important supplies, I was decently content to work, even if it was extremely difficult. The hours were long, and by the time I was put back into my stall in the evening, I fell to the floor and dozed off. 

My mother was a hard worker, as well, and I lived up to her morals and expectations. For one, she never complained. Not once did I buck, kick, or even snap at the officers, although they could be hard-handed and rude. I didn't dare do anything I wasn't commanded to, and this made me incredibly well-rounded for all sorts of work the Survey Corps needed.

Oftentimes I was made to take supplies to and from the base. A couple times a week, I had been harnessed and attached to a large wagon, pulling at a lazy trot.

I suppose my trot was too lazy, for one particular commander. Half-Moon had been watching from her wooden post, eyes glaring icily as I huffed from the exertion of the load.

“Hurry up, Cadet Rockfucker! A snail could crawl up and over your worthless ass!”

I forced myself to a quicker pace, much to the surprise of the officers. The white mare snorted in contempt and disappeared from my line of vision, never quite satisfied. Despite the fact that I was a pushover to a fault, my superior seemed constantly displeased.

There was nothing I could do, nothing to help bring some form of a smile or praise to the mare's face. It was always harsh, aggressive and foreboding. The complete opposite of how I had been raised and handled — but I didn't dare talk to the mare out of turn. That was against the rules; unwritten, but known by all.

My first impressions of the Survey Corps were a mixture of opinions that settled into my mind. I had been conditioned for the hard labor, of course, from my time in the training branch. Alas, each division has its own routine, and the workload here was something I had yet to become accustomed to.

Grazing in the pasture on my day off, I found myself next to Tumult. Such an odd creature; he never slept in the stables, much less approached them (except for food). Instead, he wandered around and sought great joy and entertainment from giving the officers a hard time. 

“Yeah, sometimes I'll stop and refuse to go on,” The mule said proudly. “And then they try and employ the ‘carrot on a stick’ tactic — which fails to work, because I chase the stick so fast, they don't see it coming.”

I eyed the sorry remains of a crumpled wagon nearby. 

“Yeah, that's my doing,” Tumult announced, swishing his thin tail with amusement. “Then the humans threaten to turn me into ground sausage. Poor meat-deprived creatures.” He brayed in a form of haughty laughter, bobbing his head.

I could never be like him. He was never afraid to piss off the soldiers, or have some fun. Plus, he directly defied the commander with his own form of protest. Usually, it was a lazy yawn or a half-assed buck. Even if he wasn't on expeditions he was technically under Half-Moon's command, but it seemed he was under his own, imaginative form of authority. He was his own leader, and nobody really took that away from him.

We became friends, quite simply. Whenever I was turned out, he'd be there, talking about all the things he did each day to anger the Survey Corps members. Why they didn't get rid of him after crashing the fifth cart in a row was beyond me; but the humans appeared to enjoy his antics enough to give him permanent residence.

The Survey Corps was a completely different life than the ones I had before. More intense, more rigorous, and more draining. But for the sake of my mother's soul and my own desire to please and to serve the humans, I put up with it. Not the easiest life, but it was one of the best I could hope for.

Even if I was under the command of a rude mare.


	7. 007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandstone hates the vet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER SHORT CHAPTER I'M SORRY ;-;
> 
> i have more stuff coming soon i just couldn't find a way to make it fit into this chapter. think of it as a little reprieve from the main plot i guess lol
> 
> enjoy! kudos and comments are appreciated <3

I'd always considered myself to be quite healthy. My lineage was strong; I was bred specifically to endure anything that went my way. Sturdier than the rock I was named after, and never ill, I was quite desirable because of this. Not a single broken bone, or nasty cough ever went my way, and I was quite fortunate for the genetics I received.

Still, the Survey Corps had a different way of running things. Since I was part of the “quarantine batch” of new arrivals, I had to go through a rigorous medical exam to be cleared for use in future expeditions, There was no way out of it; even if I felt just fine, nobody could take risks. 

The commander made that very clear for me.

“Suck it up, Cadet Rockfucker!” Half-Moon snapped, “There's no way in hell you're getting sick and dying on your first damn expedition — that'd be a fucking disgrace!”

I glanced towards the other horses around me, equally anxious. Some of them nickered shrilly in an effort to contact distant friends, others jerked away from their handlers to pace off their fear. While I wasn't too excited either, curiosity grabbed hold as I flared my nostrils, raising my head to take in the sights and smells.

The quarantine batch was mainly bays, springy colts and fillies much younger than I. They were specifically bred for use in the Survey Corps, while I was bred simply to be a good workhorse. 

My breed, stature, and build contrasted very differently among the others. Like a flower in a field of wheat, I stuck out. In a good way, I might add.

My pale hooves clacked across cobblestone and gravel as I was led towards the center of the base. 

They called the human who checked horses a “veterinarian” — something I was completely unfamiliar with. Never in my life did I ever meet a veterinarian, much less feel the need to see one, so naturally I was wondering what they looked like.

I was surprised to see that the veterinarian was not someone young and fit, but a rather wiry old man. His grey hair tousled, baldness protruding on his thinning scalp. A long, wispy beard trickled down a fuzzy, narrow chin. Sharp, watery blue eyes scored me the moment I reached his sights, his gnarled fingers reaching out for my neck.

“Aahh,” The vet sighed, his voice warbling and quiet. Trembling digits caressed my muscles and traced down my backside, ending at my hefty hindquarters. He turned to the Survey Corps officers around me, including the one that was gripping my lead rope.

“You got lucky,” He said, a crooked smile on his gaunt face. “There's only a roan once in a blue moon. Hard to come by in the walls, unless you know what you're breeding.” 

“So you're saying she's rare?” One officer inquired.

The vet nodded shakily, glancing towards my blind side now. “Indeed. Not just a roan, but a Sabino patterning as well. See all the white on her underbelly and legs? That's in her lineage somewhere. I'm guessing her breed is a cross of Quarter Horse, maybe some Mustang. Not much Thoroughbred, but Percheron? Yes, definitely yes. Explains why she looks incredibly sturdy.”

“Her riders have observed that she's excellent in terms of stamina.”

The vet nodded in agreement, prying my mouth open to glance at my teeth. “Yes, that's what she's been bred for. Those legs are meant for long distances, but not high speed agility.”

He proceeded to pinch, squeeze, and prod the rest of my body. This I didn't appreciate in the slightest, especially when he did so on my blind end. I offered a warning in the form of lifting my hind leg, although careful to not kick him. 

He chuckled, muttering something about me being “feisty”. I pinned my ears instead. My mother didn't care for people who approach her hind end — she dealt with naïve humans all the time in the walls — but I had lost trust in those who did things to me without being able to see them. 

I was also made to walk in a large circle around the vet, so he could observe my movement for any signs of lameness. Once satisfied, he asked for a trot. I did my best, jogging languidly as my handler easily ran next to me. My hoofbeats slammed the hard stone with an even beat, akin to a drum. 

The old coot was pleased. He marveled at my smoothness and said there was no doubt that I would make an excellent riding horse, as well as a cart puller. I already was one, but I supposed the Survey Corps needed advice from a wiser man.

Then came the rest of the exam; the vet listened to my heart, glanced into each eye (making a concerned hum when seeing my blind one) and even dared to have a feel down below, to which I instantly and instinctively offered a swipe of one hind leg. He stepped back with awe, but no fear. I felt a bit guilt for doing that, but anyone would hate to have such areas touched by unfamiliar hands. 

I hated every part of it. I normally prided myself on such benevolence I so held, but I disliked this particular human — this “vet”. He invaded my private space, prodded me, and then had the audacity to jab me with not one, but three needles. Each one more painful than the last. 

Needless to say, it was an unpleasant occasion, spared only from complete trauma thanks to the scientist lady's brief offering of sugar cubes. 

“Aw, I'm sorry, girl,” She said kindly, ruffling my forelock as I nibbled on the treats. I grew to adore her quite a bit; she seemed to have plenty of sympathy and was an odd human, but unique. 

While the scientist lady scratched my forehead and lovingly poured her praises, I gladly reached forward in an effort to find more treats somewhere on her person. She had more, I knew it. My pink nose eagerly snuffled her shoulders, lip twitching as I went over her sleeves.

“Sandstone! You silly thing, I don't have any more,” She chuckled. Alas, our moment together was broken. Someone was calling her over, and she departed with a pat on my nose in farewell. I liked that scientist lady, I really did.


	8. 008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sandstone causes some mischief and meets her human rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise this chapter isn't too shitty,,
> 
> i'll try and upload more chapters soon since i'm off of school for the summer!!
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are very appreciated <3

The time spent in the Survey Corps served a true purpose in my life. In a certain way, it gave me a new start, a new life. One that was quite more adventurous than any other I had experienced, and wether that was for the better or for worse I had yet to find out. For now, though, it seemed to be the former.

My fellow newcomers were kind, but I spoke to them rarely. They weren't the conversing type; neither was I, I'll admit. I slowly began to rarely talk at all, lest I earn a verbal lashing from the aggressive equine commander.

“Look alive, Cadet Rockfucker!” She'd call out during training. We'd be out in the blistering hot fields in the day, constantly moving and twisting and turning. Agility and speed were vital in titan-infested lands. 

Alas, I was bred for endurance and stamina, and not sprinting for longer than a short burst of time. When that ran out, my vigor diminished with a few heavy puffs from my nostrils, coat slicked with white foam.

She, too, was slicked with sweat, but her form was in much better shape for this activity than mine. The hot-headed mare snapped at my flanks as we cantered across the grass, bare-backed but working about as hard as the human soldiers. The people themselves watched nearby, perched on the fence or casting curious glances at our massive herd being chased and led by one particular horse.

“When you fuckers lag behind, you let down not only your sorry selves, but your riding partners as well! Think about that when your fat asses are pathetically jogging, instead of galloping!” Half-Moon nickered indignantly, and towards my ear in particular. Shame burned my face as I hurriedly spun around to catch the rest of my group, forcing myself to propel forwards in what little thrust I had. 

In the end, when we finally broke off to rest for the day, my legs were soaked and shaking. Despite being wiped down by the humans, I shivered in my stall, constantly fading between sweltering and nearly convulsing from the cold of my dampened form. 

I had to tell myself it was all worth it, in the end. But, where was this end, anyway? I sighed, nostrils billowing before succumbing to yet another deep slumber.

The next morning, surprisingly, I was told that we horses had the morning to relax. The equine commander had business to attend to (what business a horse had, anyways, I did not know), and we could rest up for what was to come in the afternoon.

My stall consisted of nothing more than my typical shavings, hay, and some water. Fairly often, I was given treats by some kind soldiers passing by, and each time a person came along, I made it a habit to stick my head out and sniff them to get a morsel of sweets. 

A bad habit, I guess, but with not much else to do in the barn, it was entertaining for me and the humans. Unfortunately, if given too much treats within the hour, I became easily bloated — this given the appearance of a pregnant broodmare. I cannot tell you how many times I've shocked both human and animal that mistakenly assumed I was with foal.

“What the hell? Is that horse pregnant?” One human would say, after I had feasted upon many an apple (some cadets were very generous with their offerings). 

“Nah,” The other said, smiling as I laid happily in the paddock's grassy land.

“Why's she so..big?”

“I think she gets a little spoiled sometimes. She's kinda charming, too, though.”

The second officer that spoke whistled. A whistle, from my training, was my call to get up and stand at attention, or to come back to a distant owner. As such, I had lazily flung myself from my napping spot, ambling over to the fence with a lazy swish of my tail. 

With a gentle rub on my nose, the men kindly offered me a little bit of bread and went on their way. My kind looks and interesting coat color were possible factors when it came to my approachability, but mostly, I enjoyed the company of the humans — from being around them for my entire life, they were simply another species I coexisted with and served.

Still, paddock or stall, it was a bore. One can only graze, run, and sleep for so long in their spare time. Now, I was a well-behaved mare, and never did anything to anger the humans or Half-Moon. But the temptation to explore was so strong, it prompted me to do something rather extreme.

What I lacked in speed, I made up for in my jumping skills. The land here was quite flat, so I rarely got an opportunity to present such traits. Backing up a considerable distance, I cantered quickly towards the fence, hind legs springing my form over the top. Landing quite decently, and now free to roam as I pleased, I headed towards the castle.

Now, the humans I had yet to look into on a more personal level. Where did they sleep? Did they have stalls as well? I never recalled seeing a human graze on grass, so I assumed their diets were quite different as well.

Approaching tue headquarters of the Survey Corps, I noticed how the grounds were oddly quiet, and empty. It was my chance to look around before they came back, and realized I had escaped my fenced confines. Not that I minded all too much, really.

Sniffing the ancient interior of the stony structure, I creeped inside. By creeping, I mean as stealthy as a horse could be, which is unfortunately not that quiet.

My hooves clacked obnoxiously against the dark stone floors, but my eye flickered curiously to the glowing amber torches on the walls, and the ornate wooden doors that led to more rooms. They reminded me of stalls, but they actually had more wooden furniture in there, too. 

One office in particular caught my attention. I'm not sure why, but the scent of parchment and ink grabbed my senses, leading me to swing my head through the doorframe. 

Papers piled on the desk (so much that I wasn't sure there was a desk there at all), and even more were precariously topped upon cabinets and underneath drawers and shelves. Assuming those were packed to the brim with forms, I knew this person in particular had a lot of work, and couldn't bear to organize it all. 

“Humans are messier than I thought,” I nickered softly to myself. I creeped further into the office, swinging my face to and fro to examine the place with my good eye. It was quite cluttered, but warm. For a few moments, I rested my muzzle on one particular pile, but as I stepped back, I stomped my hoof in alarm as it went toppling to the floor. 

This was now a completely hazardous zone of papers. Attempting to swing myself forwards to get out, I bumped the desk in the process, which elicited a chain reaction of one pile sinking into another. Soon, the entire floor around the desk was a ring of crumpled paper. My muddy hoof prints, from my time in the pasture, plastered some of the papers to my feet as I awkwardly traipsed out, a bit disoriented. 

My little adventure continued for a while. I repeated the process of going into offices, but this time I was more aware of my surroundings. At least, until my rump hit the corner of a table or stool — then everything went flying. 

Castles were not made for horses to traipse through, but I forced myself to learn that the hard way. I was nearly getting away with this interesting escapade before somebody ruined the fun.

The humans had come back, and in the nick of time. I was enjoying myself, scratching an unreachable itch on the edge of a mahogany table. I guess the soldiers didn't appreciate my use of the furniture as a rump scratcher, so with an exchange of swears and confused yelling, I was shooed out and dragged back to my stall.

I'm sure they were all quite puzzled — after all, how the hell did I manage to escape a fenced pasture and mess up the headquarters? Well, needless to say, I wasn't going to be turned out for a while. The equine commander herself was probably going to run her mouth off on me for my actions.

Her reaction was quite the opposite, however.

“Huh,” The tall mare murmured, glancing towards the castle. I recognized the short human, the corporal, black-haired and clearly fuming, in the near distance.

“I'd punish you, Rockfucker, but you also messed up Corporal Shrimp's office over there. I hate that guy.” She backed up, offering an amused look towards me. “So, thanks for that, Cadet.”

I nodded simply, hooves knocking the double-locked stall door as I saluted. She did the same and left me to be, although I had to admit — the corporal did indeed have a short temper. It suited his size well.

 

 

In due time, I was finally given a human rider. Each horse in the Survey Corps had one. They were our partners, friends, and we were ultimately trained to protect them with our own lives on the line. It was an exciting time as the young, springy humans gathered eagerly in the barn's stony courtyard, eyes flickering around excitedly. Or nervously, I couldn't quite tell the difference.

The buzz in the air gave the horses a fresh vibe of energy, and we talked amongst each other with chirping whinnies and loud snorts. Those cadets who feared horses shrank back visibly at our body language, while others freely approached us and scratched our noses.

Riders were assigned their mounts based on their personality and experience, although the military was tight on resources and couldn't match everybody. This simply meant that some young cadets would have to put up with a hot-headed ride, and there was nothing they could do about it.

We all waited anxiously, both man and beast. Familiar names of equine brethren and humans rolled sharply off an unseen list, each paired quite well as I had observed. Peeking from my stall door, I let the bright sunlight of midday soak into my face, and my half-lidded eyes and lowered ears indicated my calmness in the moment. 

I was fairly easy-going and flexible, and thus, it would be a challenge to assign just one rider to me. I was used to being ridden by the most fearful of the young ones, ones that didn't know the difference between a rein too loose or too tight. I put up with it, and this showed the officers that I was quite well-rounded.

At the bottom of the list, I was already a tad impatient. Scraping my hoof against the stall floor, I bobbed my head out of habit as cadets met their newly assigned steeds, most of them seemingly pleased with each other.

Finally, one name was called. One that stood out to me among all the others, like a diamond in a heap of coal. She was a shining star, a magnet, a beacon, and I believe I had chosen her as much as she had seemingly chosen me.

“Lyra Halden!”

My good eye casted itself upon this Lyra. She was not physically strong, nor someone who stood out. She was plain and average, if not below that. 

An innocent, trembling fawn of a teenage girl gingerly walked up to the officer, tendrils of caramel blonde hair streaming from a poorly done braid limply dangling off her small head. She had gorgeous, watery eyes, a greenish-grey hue that glinted like a sunlit creek. 

The officer pointed in my direction. Lyra shyly turned her own head to meet mine, walking briskly to my stall with a soft grin and a flush of her pale cheeks in excitement. Yes, this was my human. She was thin, lanky, and unfit for military life. Yet, her kindness reverberated off of her shining aura, gleaming upon her fragile skin as she gently reached out to stroke my nose. 

I didn't care if she wasn't as strong, and I didn't care if she seemed to be the odd one of the bunch. Believe me when I say all horses have an intuitive sense that can judge humans far beyond their physical appearances. We can calculate the very deepest of emotions lingering in their eyes, their every flinch and touch and twitch. Nothing they cast upon us, in terms of feelings, is unhidden.

Her connection to me was real, very real, and I reached my head over the stall door to take in her scent. Lyra chuckled softly, and I buried my nose into her sweet-smelling shoulder.

Yes, this one was mine.


	9. 009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Lyra more
> 
> and liberty training! yay!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make Lyra as little of a cliche as possible. She kind of reminds me of me; awkward, shy, and better with animals than humans. 
> 
> And this chapter is suuuper late whoops
> 
> Kudos are comments are loved <3

Over the next few weeks, I had begun to warm up to Lyra more and more. She had a charm to her that was unique from other soldiers; her smile and utter kindness towards all creatures drew me to her each time she visited me. In fact, she visited the stables quite a bit — earning her the nickname of “horse-lady” by the other humans. Needless to say, the name was not used in a kind fashion.

“There goes horse-lady! Hey, you mucking shit again? How about you make out with the horses, too?” A mean-spirited officer jeered, eliciting laughter from his friends. My rider ignored them, as she always had. Each day, she unlocked my stall door, allowing me to fully reach my head down to nuzzle her. 

It was my form of an embrace; her soft, friendly touch made me feel lighter, happier, and I was extremely comfortable around her presence. Whenever I was tense, she'd calm me down in a heartbeat. If I was spooked, she'd assure me all was well. It was clear from the very beginning she had lived around horses before.

She'd explained it all to me one night. After our daily ride on practice missions, she'd brush me down in the aisle, talking about her life before the military.

“My father,” She started, “He's a trick rider. That means he teaches horses how to do tricks and perform in shows. A couple times, he even performed in the interior for the royal family. Imagine that — he was invited there by the king himself!” Lyra chirped. She spoke of her father in vivid tones of clear admiration.

“Anyways, I've always wanted to follow in his footsteps. When I was little, he taught me how to make a horse bow, and canter with me standing on its back. He knew how to do all these tricks without any equipment. He thinks that bits are cruel and unnecessary, and so are whips and crops. He just uses treats and positive reinforcement — he always said, ‘Trust is key in maintaining the wild spirit of a horse’.”

I tried my best to imitate a nod in agreement. Lyra giggled at the sight of my bobbing head. Most things I did had her smiling and chuckling, and if it meant a small reprieve from the merciless bullying she endured, I believed it was well worth it. 

Trust — it was a vague term, but a valuable one nonetheless. Trust is vital in the relationships between human and horse, and without it, I and my brethren would never have been domesticated in the first place. It is purely from trust that we find ourselves serving the human race in any way possible. At least, that's how my mother put it. She trusted our old owners, and so did I. 

My human rider told me about her father's two favorite trick horses out of the several he owned. Vivace, a vibrant bay Andalusian, and Zephyr, a glossy grey Lippizaner. Both were highly trained without tack, and both were some of the most well-rounded and kindest creatures she and her father ever owned.

“I miss them dearly,” Lyra murmured softly, lifting one of my hooves to pick out the clogged mud. “I really do. But,” She paused, patting my muscular, thick neck, “You make me feel a lot less homesick.”

I snorted in reply. My equine commander knew how to imitate some human words, although with great difficulty (our mouths simply are not built for human speech), but alas I could never catch on. I deeply wished to be able to say a “thank you” to my human partner, but my own method of communication would have to suffice.

Each day, Lyra and I began to practice more and more of what was referred to as “liberty training” — simply the art of equine performance without any gear. Tackless and wild, Lyra gently coaxed me into a number of positions, much to the awe of those who once teased her.

In particular, she taught me how to her favorite feat; rolling onto my back. I'd first bend myself into a bow position, knees first, and she'd press her hand in certain muscles along my side that'd somehow, by miracle, relaxed the limbs that allowed me to flop onto my side in the dirt. From there, she clicked her tongue — a common aid, and one I understood regardless of the situation. I rolled onto my back, the final stage, and allowed my rider to do something most horses would shy away from; sit on my belly.

It was amazing, in itself, that Lyra possessed the gift of liberty training. Not a single whip or halter in sight, she managed to teach me a variety of skills that were not merely just for fun, but proved to serve a great purpose in my own training under the equine commander.

Rearing on command was a common skill. It was difficult at first, having to shift my weight mainly towards by hind legs and rump, but I managed to do a wonderful rear at last. Whenever I perfected a trick, Lyra would praise me endlessly and spoil me with treats from her uniform pocket. Not that this really helped with my bloating issues, but it was something I dearly enjoyed.

My trust in Lyra grew in copious amounts, as if the day I had chosen her (I preferred to think I had chosen her rather than the opposite), was meant to be. The girl would spend her free hours exploring a variety of liberty exercises we could conduct, working side by side as one. 

We were not human and animal; we were one organism, one being split into two souls. I gladly rolled onto my back for her for a long time, letting her read books as I dozed off, legs lazily hanging in the air. 

The officers were clearly shocked, amazed and bewildered at such talent. It was not a common skill to use in the military — however, they still watched in curiosity when Lyra managed to get me into one pose after another. All of this without the use of any aids.

Lyra knew what she was doing; she was in tune with my every movement. Every twitch of my muscles, every blink of my eyes seemed to well expected in her senses. She was more than a partner that rode me in recon missions and training exercises — she was a true friend that found solace in my kindness and grace. 

The other horses weren't as connected to their riders, I noticed. They were merely servants, carrying hot-headed teenagers with poorly balanced hormones here and there, commanded to do strenuous tasks until their sides heaved and their mouths were white with foam. I frowned upon the immature humans that yanked on my brethren's reins and squeezed their legs to hard, and I pitied the poor souls that were assigned to them without much choice. 

Even Lyra frowned upon the lack of compatibility in some pairs.

“That gelding's way too excited for such a nervous rider,” She whispered into my ear one day as she led me towards the barns. Sure enough, a young soldier was struggling to steer a tall, lithe bay, its brisk pace and the boy's inability to stop him a telltale sign that they were not quite fit for each other. 

I sighed softly, nostrils billowing in her hair. Lyra giggled in her own way, a trill that followed with a wide smile. It accented the hazel-colored freckles on her cheeks, and brightened her already brilliant green gaze. It was perfect, and envied my own; sharp on one side, clouded on the other. Still, she made a point each night to tell me just how beautiful I was.

“You've got the most amazing coat in all the walls, Sandstone,” She'd whisper, tracing her fingers over my splashed markings. Glancing at my blind eye, she would add with a grin, “And your eye..it looks like the clouds in the sky. Like I can see the heavens right through it.”

She'd stroke my neck and brush out the tangles in my cream-colored mane and tail, making sure (and double-checking) that I had plenty of hay and fresh water. If I seemed too cold, she'd toss a warm blanket over my back. Too hot, and she'd crack open my stall door so that the evening breeze could rush in. 

The other soldiers, they provided the decent amount of care required for their equine companions. They cared not too much about their true happiness, only their physical health (lest they get a verbal beating from the higher-ups). This treatment displeased my own commander, whose charcoal tail swished irritably if someone didn't quite maintain them properly.

“Damn, they don't even speak a word to my cadets! This isn't a prison, this is the Survey Corps! Communication and a strong bond is key!” She'd make a point to stamp one hoof upon the ground, surely spooking anyone within hearing range. 

Half-Moon did notice mine and Lyra's connection, though, and did pull me aside one day in an effort to inquire about it.

“Rockfucker! C'mere, you slug!” She whinnied to me one day. The horses were well-worked in a series of agility exercises, and my own legs were nearly buckling from exhaustion. 

Gingerly, I jogged towards the tall mare, offering a weak salute before asking, “Yes, Commander?”

Her cold eyes regarded me with little emotion. At least, none I could pinpoint. “You and your human, Lyra. You guys seem pretty close.”

I bobbed my head. “Y-Yes. We are, I suppose.”

She snorted in response, her tail blowing in the strong winds of the day, “I observed her..making you do tricks.”

I felt my face flush, lowering it slightly. Was there truly any need for embarrassment? I wasn't sure. However, her cold tone didn't help me.

“Er, well—” Half-Moon cut me off before I could finish.

“Cadet, might I remind you that you are a _horse_ , not some flea-ridden dog.” 

Her scornful tone didn't help my humiliation. Was that really what she thought of my friendship? That I was merely a dog doing tricks? It was more than just that.

The tall mare sighed. “Hold your damn head up when I'm speaking to you. Anyways, some of those tricks could actually prove to be fairly important skills within the equine division.”

Straightening myself together, I perked my ears curiously at the sudden change in the commander's perspective.

“R-Really?” I said cautiously.

“I mean, if you don't want to get your ass-kicked by a big footed titan or get mowed down by fallen debris, even a simple leap in the air could prove to be quite useful.”

The commander simply said this and nothing more for a few moments, about to head back there wherever she usually hung out. Turning her head back, she added, “Thanks for the idea, Rockfucker. Maybe you aren't as wimpy as I thought.”


	10. 010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES THIS IS SO LATE RIP
> 
> but enjoy anyways ;-; it's a bit short as well but i promise the next chapters will be filled with action!

We all knew, at some point, the weeks would trickle into days. Days flooded into hours that barely skipped along before the time had come. The expedition.

It was a monthly feat, the horses had the liberty to explain. A dangerous one, at that. The humans, they said, were so desperate to escape the massive confines of the walls in an effort to discover more untraveled terrain. Alas, this was at a tragic cost, and it was this that made me all the more afraid of what was yet to come.

“The soldiers, the young ones,” A bay mare, well seasoned in this field, had told me, “They're so naïve. They have no idea of how terrible it is outside the walls. Here, we are safe, but once that threshold is opened, all that lies ahead is the everlasting risk of death. It's almost an execution.” 

I froze, clearly shocked. An execution? Was it so extreme of a task? Surely there couldn't be flocks of titans trudging over every square inch of the land. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as the mare had said — after all, the older steeds were notorious for frightening the inexperienced rookies, like me. 

I stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Everyone was frantic enough as it was — soldiers, young and old, were packing supplies and double checking that their gear was working. I observed as they tested the wheels on each cart being used, tweaking the axel if it was a tad loose. I was to be hooked to a cart, along with a friend of mine, Scorpion.

Scorpion's stall was right across from mine, and needless to say, he was a mammoth creature. His head reached the branches of the trees in our field, and his hooves the size of dinner platters. Indeed, he was a sight to behold, but even his coat color was a tad odd; he was two completely different horses, halved and put together. One side of him was a pale grey, the other a creamy dun. 

Besides that, he was an excellent companion to have on the carts. His thoroughbred side showed in his quick gait, while I had to huff and puff my way up to his speed. The other part of him was obviously some sort of draft, as his legs were thickly feathered and his size was an obvious giveaway.

“Hey, Sandy?” Scorpion nickered gently, peeking over his stall door. His kind eyes matched mine, noticing my anxiousness with a flick of his long ears.

Sandy. Boy, I hated that name, but he was my friend, and I teased him as well. All in good fun, I suppose, even in this apprehensive time.

I nodded. “Yeah, Scorpy?” I replied, lacing it with amusement, trying hard to hide the shakiness. But he was an observant creature, and caught on quickly to my failed attempts to hide my true emotions.

“We'll be okay, I know it,” He reassured me. Shifting on his legs, he found a way to encourage me with his best impression of a smile. “The Survey Corps is strong, and we are, too.”

Such simplicity of his words had failed to appease my anxiety, but it was enough. Fair and simple; we would live. How did he knew that for sure, however? Horses could be killed numerous ways out there — even if not by titan, then surely the threat of getting lost, breaking a leg, or getting smashed by broken debris would do it. 

Scorpion turned around, flopping down into his bedding with a resounding thud that shook the barn on its foundation. We all needed our rest, just like the humans. Alas, it was the horses that would need it more, for we were going to carry them and the carts of their supplies for miles and miles.

I blessed the heavens for my stamina — I'd really need it. I had always been so curious of the world outside the walls, like everybody else was. Still, it was both a blessing and a curse to have such curiosity, and who knew what horrors lie in wait for us the next morning.

The lights in the barn flickered out. Night fell quickly, and the soldiers remaining had already gone back to their barracks. The other horses in my barn settled in for a good night's sleep — but with the tension so heavy in the air, a refreshing slumber would be difficult.

Familiar footsteps greeted me just as I prepared to drift off. Lyra, eyes glossy with the promise of tears, had peeked over my stall door, holding back sobs.

It hurt me to see her this way. Lyra, the kindest human I had ever met, and seemingly the cheeriest — was crying. Out of what could only be instinct, I reached down to nuzzle her shoulder, a familiar gesture of comfort.

She trembled from her quiet sobs, caressing my face and holding it close.

“Sandstone..” 

If only I could say something to her, honestly. My heart ached for her, and I never recalled seeing a tear on her face. She always seemed to cheerful..whatever this was, whatever upset her, had to be a force to be reckoned with.

Unless..it was the expedition that was getting to her. I suppose such emotions before a possibly fatal journey could make sense, but even before this moment, she appeared so confident and happy, even as she loaded carts and exercised me around.

What had made her this way?

She held me tighter to her, but I didn't complain. Humans sought the touch of others, and I understood that feeling well. Her blond tassels of hair tickled my nose and stirred in the night's breeze, but she barely moved.

“I'm so scared, Sandstone. I'm so fucking scared.”

Scared.

Fear was a feeling, an emotion I was well acquainted with. Back in Shingashina, where my mother died and I was left to roam as an orphan..I experienced fear. In its unfiltered form, fear crept on me at a constant pace, my good eye peeled for sight of the gargantuan titans that plagued the land we knew.

I wished I could tell her we'd be okay. I truly did. My nostrils billowed gently, and almost instinctively I licked her tears away, like a dog. 

She barely smiled, wiping the rest away and stroking my forehead gently. Humans seemed to react in different ways when seeking comfort, and such behaviors I observed and picked up on well. I couldn't exactly give her a hug, or offer some encouraging words, but my presence and quiet offered her a little bit of relief.

“I never meant to join,” She whispered, hiccoughing a bit as her sobs died down. I perked my ears to listen, concerned.

Lyra swallowed, sniffing. “Sandstone..my father was going out of business. They..were going to sell off his horses. We were going to lose our home. I had no choice Sandstone, I didn't.”

Quietly, she swayed on her feet, biting her lip. “I don't belong here. I never have and never will. I train horses, not kill titans.”

There wasn't much I could do. Actually, there was nothing I could do, except be there for her in this time. The silence hung over us, a sense of temporary peace that was certainly going to be broken in a few hours. 

She stepped back finally, offering a gently pat of my head. A soft smile slowly cracked her lips.

“But you know what, Sandstone? You saved me. You give me hope and a reason to be here, each and every day. I'm not alone here. We'll survive out there, I know it. We'll be together, always.”

Offering a final kiss on my nose, she crept out of the barn, leaving me to be. I turned back into my stall, collapsing into my bedding. I needed the rest, just like Lyra did.

I pondered the words she said, the honestly pouring from her lips as well as her sorrowful, frightened tears. She was so frightened, but it was I that gave her hope and strength in this cruel, unforgiving world.

I feel asleep, repeating her last sentence in my head to encourage my own shaken spirit.

_We'll be together, always._


End file.
